


Best Somethings

by shrift



Series: Stargate Atlantis Fanworks [9]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Episode Related, Episode Tag, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-01-20
Updated: 2008-01-20
Packaged: 2017-10-02 02:23:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shrift/pseuds/shrift
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which John and Rodney are idiots, although perhaps not more so than usual.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Best Somethings

**Author's Note:**

> Post-ep for episode 4x13 - "Quarantine". Speedy beta by Nestra, who fed me a few lines of dialogue and caused this to happen.

When Rodney finally showed up to the mess hall after reprogramming Atlantis's quarantine system, John took one look at him and said, "Guess you're ready for that beer now."

John wasn't going to mention it, but he'd been hanging out for a while, waiting for Rodney to make a food run and wondering what he'd say if Rodney asked him to be his Best Man. He'd have to put on his dress uniform and give a _speech_. John wasn't sure that was worth the opportunity to torture Rodney with the universe's worst bachelor party.

"Hmm," Rodney said absently, sitting across from him. He poked at his Jell-O with a spoon, but didn't eat anything.

John got up and returned with a couple of beers. He plunked a cold one in front of Rodney.

"So," John said leadingly. "How did it go?"

Rodney looked as if his computer had spontaneously begun running in Elvish. "...I think she broke up with me? Maybe? After I didn't propose."

John temporarily lost control over his eyebrows. "You didn't propose?"

"The city went into quarantine! It didn't seem like the time!" Rodney straightened in his chair and lifted his chin, looking over John's shoulder. If John were as tall as Ronon, maybe, and also standing up.

"And you were freaking out," John said.

Rodney slumped. "That too."

"Yeah, you suck in enclosed spaces. So you blew it, huh?"

Rodney stared at his beer miserably. "Thank you for that accurate summation, Dr. Phil."

John leaned on his forearms and pitched his voice low. "What happened? I mean, you seemed pretty gung-ho about this earlier."

"Yes, well, it was a stupid idea," Rodney said.

John made a face so it wouldn't look like he was laughing at Rodney's pain. "You're only saying that because she broke up with you."

"Yes, and?" Rodney snapped. "And I said maybe, _perhaps_ she broke up with me."

"Yeah, okay," John said. He sipped at his beer and thought about his ex. "Sometimes it is a stupid idea."

"I wasn't ready," Rodney blurted, looking at John. "At least, I wasn't ready for marriage? With her? I think?"

John knew what he meant, but he had to mock Rodney anyway. "You think?"

Rodney waggled his hand. "This whole 'social acuity' stuff just isn't my thing."

"Tell me about it," John said.

"Hey!" Rodney protested, one side of his mouth drooping.

"I meant me, idiot," John said. "You wanna play that round of golf now?"

"God, yes," Rodney said immediately.

"You fire up the game. I'll get more beer."

* * *

Eighteen holes and several beers later, John said, "So."

"Hmm, what?" Rodney said.

"If you were getting married --" John said.

"I think we've already established that I'm not," Rodney said. "And can we not talk about this?"

"No," John said, frustrated because he didn't want to say what he was going to say, but not saying it would be even worse because then he wouldn't know. "If you _were_ getting married, who'd be your Best Man?"

Rodney stared at him, mouth open, with a horrified little scrunch around the eyes like that one time John suggested a game of kickball. "What? Seriously? Are you stupid?"

"What?" John demanded.

"You! I'd ask you! Who else would I ask?" Rodney said, waving his beer bottle in John's face until John grabbed it from his hand.

"I don't know," John said. He shrugged. "Ronon. Radek."

"What is wrong with you?" Rodney asked. "You're my best friend, you moron!"

"Well," John said. "Good."

He started another round of golf. Rodney just stared when it was his turn.

"You are so weird," Rodney declared.

"Hey!" John protested.

Rodney smiled meanly. "Don't try to deny it!"

"Look who's talking," John said, even though he knew it was the weakest comeback in the history of lame comebacks.

"Weirdo."

"Shut up," John said.

"Make me," Rodney said happily.

"There are a lot of other things you could be doing with that mouth," John said. And cringed inwardly, because _shit_.

"I... what?" Rodney said finally, as stunned as if Ronon had just slammed him onto the mat. "Did you just..."

John shifted uncomfortably.

Rodney's jaw dropped and his eyes popped in a parody of asphyxiation. "You _did_."

John held out the beer bottle he'd stolen. "I meant the beer."

But Rodney was ridiculously pleased, even more puffed up than the last time he'd beaten John at golf. "You like me!"

"Rodney..."

Just as quickly, Rodney deflated, staring at John with huge eyes. "Oh, my god, you like me."

John wondered if he could hit Rodney over the head and get Dr. Keller to give him a case of hysterical amnesia, because that would be good right about now.

"I mean, what does this mean?" Rodney asked. He snapped his fingers. "Have we been dating?"

John sneered a little. "Generally I like my dates to know it's a date beforehand."

"Oh, my god, how long have we been dating?" Rodney asked.

"We're not dating!" John said.

But Rodney was way past listening. He leapt up to pace his lab. "Is this why things didn't work out with Katie? Did she think we were, you know?"

"Now you're really reaching," John said.

"But why else would she --" Rodney said, then stopped in front of John. "Oh, I probably shouldn't be asking you, should I?"

"Probably not," John agreed. He wondered how fast he could flee. He was pretty sure that he could outrun Rodney's voice, although hiding from him when Rodney wasn't trapped in a botany bay would be a trick.

Rodney fidgeted. His color was high. "You like me?"

John glanced at the ceiling. "Don't ask me why."

"I had no idea," Rodney said. Then, "_Really_?"

"Rodney," John warned.

"Hey, it's not my fault you play your cards too close to your vest," Rodney said, crossing his arms.

He kicked Rodney's shin. "United States _military_."

"Fine," Rodney said. "I cede your point."

"Can we not talk about this?"

"Okay, just... let me do one thing," Rodney said. He hesitated. John blinked, and then Rodney was in his face, grabbing at John's tac shirt.

John tried to say "what the fuck?" but Rodney was kissing him, his mouth wide and wet, tongue cool from beer. It started out messy and urgent and somewhat uncomfortable, but then Rodney made a pleased noise and slowed down, cupped John's face, and just _licked_. John curled his fingers into Rodney's pants pockets and yanked him closer, sprawling back and spreading his legs.

After a moment, Rodney said, "This is really hurting my back."

John rolled his eyes. "Then sit down."

Rodney sat, wheeling his chair closer until their knees bumped. He looked at John eagerly. "So?"

John really had no idea what he was fishing for. "So?"

"Does this mean we're dating?" Rodney asked.

Okay, it was definitely time for John to go. "Rodney."

"Yes?"

"Sit on it for a week. Think about it," John said. "Make sure Katie broke up with you. Then come talk to me."

Rodney took a deep breath, a deep line appearing between his eyebrows. "I -- okay. A week? I don't understand --"

"See you then," John said. He stood up and clapped Rodney on the shoulder, and then walked out of the room at a fast clip, Rodney calling after him.

* * *

The next day, John holed up in Sam's office for most of the morning, hashing out procedures and better readiness ideas in the event of another quarantine or massive power loss. He didn't go to meals at his normal times, and even punked out on his spar with Ronon. Ronon had been acting a little squirrelly lately, anyway, letting hits get past his defense that he should have been able to block. Maybe he was distracted or something, but John didn't like being responsible for sending Ronon to the infirmary twice a week.

That night, John got an e-mail from Rodney that simply said: STOP AVOIDING ME.

John ignored it.

The next morning, John went for a run and got breakfast ridiculously early, and came back to find another e-mail from Rodney that said: OH, MY GOD. YOU'RE ACTING LIKE A CHILD.

John ignored that one, too.

That afternoon, John and Lorne took over a lab, spreading blueprints all over the counter space and some of the floor so they could talk about strategic C-4 dumps, because even John didn't think free climbing made for a very good contingency plan.

"Definitely here and here, and I was thinking..." John pointed at some locations on the blueprints.

"Yes, sir. And possibly here," Lorne said, walking his fingers over the blueprints and marking spots with little drawings of explosives.

"What about access, though?" John asked, thinking out loud. "We can't use any kind of locking mechanism that needs juice, and I don't want it to be ATA-dependent, either."

"What about the old-fashioned way?" Lorne suggested. "Concealed lockboxes, one for the C-4 and one for blasting caps. Rubber-cap the keys and keep them with our tags, that way we always have them on us --"

"Aha!" Rodney said from the doorway, pointing an accusing finger at John.

"Rodney," John said patiently. "Not now."

Rodney curled back his finger and dropped his hand. "Oh. You're actually working."

"Yes, we are," John said.

"I thought you were avoiding me on purpose," Rodney said, mostly oblivious to the fact that there were other people in the room.

Lorne looked a little pained and maybe like he was playing a game of 'anywhere but here, learning too much about my boss's relationships'. He had to play that game a lot more than John liked, lately.

"Can we talk about this later?" John asked.

"Right, yes," Rodney said, nodding. He pointed over his shoulder. "I'll just go now."

"Where were we?" John asked when Rodney turned on his heel and left. "Lockboxes. Keys. Tell me more."

"Yes, sir," Lorne said, eyeing the door warily.

Later, John got an e-mail that said: SORRY. John could practically hear Rodney's Canadian vowels.

John felt vaguely guilty about it, but he ignored it like the rest.

More e-mails followed over the next few days, like: ALL RIGHT. YOU CAN'T POSSIBLY BE THIS BUSY. _I'M_ NOT THIS BUSY. And another that said: SERIOUSLY, ARE YOU THIS BUSY? And: I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU. YOU'VE BEEN IGNORING ME THIS WHOLE TIME! The one that almost got John to respond was: IF YOU WON'T TALK TO ME, I'M ERASING YOUR BEST GOLF SCORES. THIS IS NOT AN IDLE THREAT, COLONEL!

John knew he could wait Rodney out; once Rodney thought about the consequences, he'd change his mind and say thanks, but no thanks. John had never been able to make it worth all the work, so in the long run, quashing this thing now would save them a lot of time and effort, and maintain the team dynamic. Things were rough enough with Teyla on the bench.

After that last e-mail, Rodney went uncharacteristically silent. John trained his men in the new quarantine procedures, oversaw the installation for the C-4 dumps, and generally got a whole bunch of stuff done the rest of the week. Then John received an e-mail that said: TIME'S UP.

John made a few faces at his laptop screen, then steeled himself and went to Rodney's lab.

"You are a crappy best friend," Rodney said the moment John walked in the door. He didn't turn around from his work station.

"Never said I wasn't," John said. "Did you erase my scores?"

"I said I would," Rodney said. His back stiffened.

"That was kinda mean," John said. He leaned against the counter and examined Rodney's profile. He looked tired.

Rodney huffed so hard that his stool wobbled. "Mean? _Mean_? Oh, yes, please, let's discuss _mean_, Colonel."

"Look," John said placatingly, because if he could rip this off like a Band-Aid, maybe it wouldn't be so bad. "You want a rebound thing. That's cool. Lots of people do. I just don't think it's a good idea for it to be, you know, with me."

"Rebound thing?" Rodney said, finally looking at him. "_Rebound thing_?"

"Unless Katie didn't dump you, in which case..." John said, spreading his hands.

"Oh, she dumped me, all right," Rodney said. He hopped off his stool, his jaw resolute, and poked John in the chest. "I know you're not stupid, so can you please explain to me why you're being so stupid?"

"Hey!" John said.

Rodney poked him again. "I've never had a 'rebound thing' in my life!"

John flinched away from Rodney's pokey finger. "Oh, come on."

"People aren't exactly lining up to date me, you know," Rodney said, folding his arms and hunching his shoulders. "Nobody's ever waiting in the wings."

"Oh," John said, because he really hadn't been expecting that. He was alone by choice; flings had lost their appeal a while ago.

"I'm aware of my shortcomings," Rodney said. "I'm trying to be a... happier person. I wanted it to work with Katie, but, well, we know how that turned out."

John squirmed. "You weren't exactly right for each other. I didn't want to say anything." It was kinda fun to squash Rodney's ideas in a professional situation, but John wouldn't touch relationship counseling with the disembodied arm of a Wraith.

"And I thought, perhaps, that I could with -- but no," Rodney said. For a brief moment, his face crumpled, but when John blinked, Rodney's face had smoothed into an expression of false cheer. "Right, so! Glad we cleared that up! Work to do!"

"Hey," John said quietly, because he was getting a little worried now. "What exactly are you saying?"

"Nothing," Rodney said. "Absolutely nothing."

"Rodney," John said.

Rodney smacked his hands on the counter. "Fine! You liked me! I like you! I thought, hey, here's a relationship I hadn't realized was a possibility! But I forgot that you're you and I'm me, and god, could you please go away now?"

"Yeah, no," John said. He hopped on the counter and nudged Rodney's hand with his thigh.

Rodney snatched his hand away. "I hate you."

"No, you don't," John said.

"No, I don't," Rodney agreed. He wilted, pressing his hand to his forehead. "You make my brain hurt."

"You erased my golf scores. I think we're even," John said. Rodney made a strangled noise. John hopped off the counter. "So."

"I'm asking Ronon to strangle you," Rodney said.

"You know he won't," John said.

Rodney nodded, his eyes closed. "I know, but it'll make me feel better."

"Hey," John said softly, and when Rodney looked up, he kissed him. Rodney jerked back and John chased him, pushing him against the counter and making his laptop clatter. He kissed Rodney until Rodney opened his mouth and made hurt noises against John's tongue. John held Rodney's face and kissed him some more; Rodney's hands flailed and caught at John's shoulders, slid down to his hips and onto his ass.

"What -- what are you --" Rodney said, breathing hard.

"I don't even know why I'm doing this," John said.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're terrible with compliments?" Rodney asked.

John grimaced. "Yeah."

Rodney took his hands off John's ass in order to shove him away, but John didn't want to be moved. "This is messy enough. I don't think we need --"

"Video golf date. Tonight. You up for it?"

"What?" Rodney said. He stopped pushing.

"You heard me," John said.

Rodney eyed him warily. "I... yes?"

"Excellent," John said, stepping back. "See you in a few hours."

Rodney gaped. "This doesn't mean we're dating!"

"Sure," John said easily. "Hey, this time, you bring the beer."


End file.
